The Price For Freedom
by Pretty.Pretty.Butterfly
Summary: Post Brisingr. MurtaghxOC. Eragon is captured and has to decide which side he'll choose to fight for. Will he remain with the Varden and help them overthrow the King or will he decide to fight for the Empire? He finds help in the most unlikely of people.
1. The Fortress of Despair

**Disclaimer – I own nothing except for Amarisa. **

**A/N - Okay…so this is a new Eragon fanfic I'm gonna try to keep going. My old one I think I might discontinue. Anyways, this is basically set after Brisingr and (in my mind) the final fight that either the Varden or the Empire will win.**

**Enjoy and R&R pwease ;)**

**EDIT- Fixed it up a bit, I really felt like there were pretty bad bits. (cringy more like)**

* * *

_The Price for Freedom_

* * *

A young boy with toffee brown hair was dragged into the pitch black throne room by two soldiers who seemed to have just come from the battlefield. Their armour was torn and bloodied and they looked exhausted.

A man dressed all in black was watching from the obsidian throne that he sat on; his face cast into shadow.

The boy was thrown onto the ground roughly and the soldiers left to return to their ranks, closing the huge stone doors and plunging the room into further darkness.

The sound of something hitting the walls of the castle with huge force echoed through the room and shook the foundations of the castle, knocking some stone statues to the ground where they smashed into tiny pieces.

The throne room was cold and damp; no light penetrated the windows which were covered with heavy black velvet curtains.

From where he sat on the throne, Galbatorix studied the boy. His black eyes showed no trace of any emotion, only a sinister mask that concealed his true feelings.

The boy pushed himself up stiffly to his knees. His breathing was laboured and blood dripped from a wound on his head onto the floor in what looked like black droplets in the darkness.

At the sight of blood, the King's eyes lit up with a strange animalistic delight that was quickly quenched before anyone could identify it.

For a few more minutes, the King watched as the brunette tried unsuccessfully to stand up.

He made no move to speak or to help the boy; he simply sat and watched as the last free dragon rider struggled to get to his feet.

Footsteps echoed from outside the room.

Suddenly the engraved stone doors swung open silently.

A dark haired young man stepped into the complete and utter darkness of the throne room.

"Sire." he bowed to the King. "You sent for me?"

The King studied him carefully for a moment.

"Yes Murtagh. I wish for you to be here in case anything goes…amiss." Galbatorix told him, grinning crookedly although the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Very well then, sire." Murtagh nodded obediently, understanding the mad king's meaning, and positioned himself so that he could pin his brother down if he needed to.

The King gazed at the boy still struggling to stand, concentrating on entering the boy's mind.

The force of power behind his mind had obviously overwhelmed the boy at first. There had been a slight gap in his concentration but, before Galbatorix could take advantage of it, the barrier was restored.

As the two minds battled for dominance, Murtagh watched impassively, waiting for one to defeat the other.

Sweat started to drip from Eragon's face, joined with his blood, as he fought to keep the King from his memories and thoughts. He clenched his teeth against the battering that the barrier around his mind was taking but he still didn't let it waver again.

While all this was happening, a figure dressed in blood red floated into the room through a discreet doorway to the right of the throne. She, for it was obvious from her figure and garments that she was a young woman, walked over to stand beside the King and Murtagh watched curiously.

He could barely see her so he had no idea who it was. All he could see was that she was standing passively by the King's side, not seeming to notice or care about what was happening around her.

Murtagh was intrigued; he wondered who would be required to wait on the King or who Galbatorix would have summoned. That woman must have been important to him somehow.

After half an hour, finally the King gave up, he looked to his side, "Ah, daughter, you have come."

"Of course." She replied tonelessly, letting just the vaguest hint of sarcasm escape her lips.

The King nodded for her to light the lamps and then said, "Murtagh, take our..._guest_ to his room. You know which one."

Murtagh nodded, obviously dismissed, and hauled Eragon to his feet.

The room was lit by the flickering firelight of the lamps and he could see the princess clearly.

She was lighting the final lamp; her white-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders in sleek curls. She seemed to be the complete opposite to her father. She was the light and he was the darkness.

He caught a glimpse of her face and felt as if his heart would break. She was completely emotionless; the light that he had seen in her grey eyes the first time he'd met her was gone. It had been replaced by a vacancy, as if they were waiting for her soul to return.

Darkness had prevailed.

Looking away, he roughly helped Eragon stand and pulled him out of the room, into the hallway outside.

The younger boy looked slightly dazed, not seeming to understand what was happening.

"C'mon." Murtagh said gruffly, continuing down the corridor with a hand on Eragon's arm to steady him.

They wound through the many corridors of the castle, passing no one as they went. The castle was eerily silent except for the occasional catapulted rock slamming into the castle walls; nearly all of the men were outside fighting.

It was a depressing place, there were no tapestries or paintings on the walls, it was like a huge, stone fortress of darkness. Even in the hallways barely any light shone into the building.

As they neared the dungeons they passed a few maids carrying laundry baskets, all of them looked anxious, biting their lips in worry. They wondered if the men would come back from this battle.

But, as he passed, they eyed Eragon with pity. Their eyes widened as they noticed Murtagh, each of them rushing to curtsy.

He nodded carelessly at them and kept dragging the younger rider along with him.

His reputation as a powerful, merciless general earned him fear and respect throughout the Empire.

They reached their destination in a few minutes, Eragon half faint from fatigue.

About six guards were sitting in the dungeons watching over the prisoners, playing cards and drinking as usual, though they stopped as soon as they noticed Murtagh striding towards them.

Murtagh handed Eragon over to them and watched as they put him into the cell at the end of the room. It had one window and a wooden door. The walls were made of stone and the floor had straw scattered across it. Eragon sat in the corner staring blankly ahead.

_Poor soul, it must've been a pretty tough day for him. _Murtagh thought to himself, looking pitifully at the young Shur'tugal. _His worst nightmares are coming true._

For the first time he actually felt sorry for the younger boy.

Sighing heavily, resigned, he decided to leave. He could do nothing to help Eragon. It would be better if he left him alone to try and think.

Turning around, he strode back the way he'd come. He yawned, looking forward to a good night's rest.

* * *

The King's daughter, Amarisa, was staring into her mirror.

Although the image of herself that she saw before her was beautiful, she could only see the flaws in it.

The odd chicken pock scar and her right eye that was slightly smaller than the left were some of the many things she noted despairingly.

Her hair was limp and lifeless, reflecting her state of mind at the time.

She had been looking at her reflection for so long that she believed it was her soul trapped on the other side.

Her soul's hand lifted up limply to meet hers through the glass.

This was the closest she'd been to human contact for a long time; she didn't count her father as human.

She had withdrawn from the other people of the court since the incident that summer. It had changed her perspective on life completely.

Her fiancée had been murdered by some rogue members of the Varden, unauthorised by their leader, as he rode out with a hunting party one day. They'd delivered his head to her balcony that night.

She still had no idea how they'd gotten it there.

The horror of that night was not something she liked to relive but, though traumatising, it had given her some insight to how those people thought. She was a liability, her father's weakness, and they had used that to try to get to him through some kind of misplaced sense of justice.

If that was how they thought, they were no better than the animal that people liked to call her father.

After that, Galbatorix had kept a disturbingly close eye on her, waiting to make his final move. Then, one day, she had been called to his study. He'd had something urgent to speak with her about.

She'd been stupid, thinking that he actually wanted to discuss strategy with her.

But she knew as soon as she stepped into that room, completely ignorant to the King's plan at first, that something awful was going to happen.

He attacked her mind, trying in vain to discover her true name so that she could become another one of his slaves.

But she'd been taught well, his blood ran through her veins whether she liked it or not, and she'd managed to keep him out.

Furious, he'd exiled her to her chambers, where she'd remained for the past year.

All she had ever felt was the cold and unfeeling numbness that she protected herself with. She was afraid of opening up to anyone in case they hurt her. Inside she was broken, a fragile porcelain doll, just like her poor shredded heart.

Being the daughter to a tyrannical King always made her the target. What they didn't seem to realise was that, whatever they did to her, her father wouldn't care. He wouldn't even bat an eyelash. Being a princess had ruined her life. She hated both the Varden and her father. She'd seen the bad side of both of them. She knew how cruel they could both be.

But, when she wasn't bitter and resentful, she could see the good sides too. She knew better than to judge them before she knew all of the facts. Life had taught her that much.

Amarisa looked down at her hand touching the glass.

She had been in one of her rare lucid states today but now the fogginess she associated with depression was back, pulling her under.

Her thoughts spiralled down, falling deeper into the thick, white fog.

It poisoned her mind, filling her mind with things that no sane person could think.

Her blank, glassy eyes watched her reflection with a gaze full of intense despair.

No one ever touched her; it had been so long since anyone had held her hand or touched her face. It had been so long since she had felt anyone's lips on hers.

A tear trickled down her face.

All she really wanted was to feel alive again, to be loved. But she never let herself; she just remained the cold and untouchable ice-queen that everyone saw.

No one knew how she felt. She never let them in.

The world was a barren waste-land, full of pain and suffering.

She looked at the harrowing figure in the mirror.

Then something occurred to her, the world was a terrible place, yes, but maybe…maybe if she smashed the mirror, her soul would come back inside her.

It would make her alive again.

She had heard the many comments on how she looked like her very essence had floated away and that she was just a shell of a person now.

She slammed her hand into the mirror, smashing it.

Cracks rippled outwards from her hand.

The glass shattered, her reflection disappearing.

Shards flew into the air, scratching her skin, yet she couldn't feel it.

Frantic, she looked around for her soul. Surely that had freed it? Surely she'd go back to her old self now?

Grabbing shards of glass, she arranged them together in a futile attempt at bringing her soul back.

The tears came quickly now.

She ran her hand across the pieces, searching.

As suddenly as it had come, the white fog disappeared, swirling away with the last pieces of insanity.

Looking down at her hand, she noticed that it tingled a bit.

Funny, she didn't remember spilling any red paint on it.

Then it dawned on her.

She'd done this to herself. After all the things she'd sworn to herself, she'd done this.

Only now she couldn't remember why.

Dropping the shards she still held to the ground, she stood up and brushed off her dress.

The blood was barely noticeable on the ruby material, something that gave her chills, although she didn't know why.

Glass crunching beneath her feet, she walked over to French doors and sat down on the edge of her balcony, blood still dripping from her hand.

She still couldn't feel the pain. Gazing out unseeingly at the ruby red city, she only saw a place soaked in the blood of innocents.

This bloodshed had been all because a group of people wanted her father flung off of his throne.

It sickened her.

* * *

As he passed one of the doors on his way to his room, Murtagh heard something smash inside.

He whipped around and decided to try and open the door.

It was locked.

"Damn it." He muttered under his breath.

He ran and broke down the door, completely forgetting about magic, and saw a broken mirror lying on the ground, shards of glass covering the floor around it.

Sitting on the stone balcony and looking out at the chaos and destruction of the city was the King's daughter.

Blood dripped from her hand in ruby droplets but she did nothing to stem the flow.

He walked over to the balcony and sat down gently beside her.

"Why do they do this?" She whispered; hopelessness evident on her tear streaked face.

"It's the way things are." He shrugged.

"It shouldn't be like this. This war is pointless. I don't care if they think it's to achieve justice or to rid the world of evil. No higher being could condone this. Yet they ask for luck from their Gods, expecting that everything they do is what those unearthly beings want. Although, ironically, each man out there sees himself as a God."

"I can't do anything to stop it, so why try? As a race, all humans ever want is to look for bloodshed and war. But…if anyone could stop it," He mused, "It would be you. You're the rightful heir to the throne and you've been effected by both sides in this war. I'd guess that the only way to stop this war forever would be for your father to die and for you to succeed him."

She looked out below her, contemplating his words, "If what you say is true…the way out is much clearer than I thought. Although when my father dies is for him to decide, no assassin can ever dream of killing him."

Murtagh glanced down at the small puddle of blood on the ground.

"Your hand!" He gasped, remembering immediately why he'd come over to her.

He grabbed it and lifted it up, examining the cut clinically.

There was a deep gash on the palm of her hand that oozed huge amounts blood.

His dark fathomless eyes held an expression she couldn't comprehend.

Dropping her hand for a second, he ripped a piece of his shirt off and, holding her hand again, started to wrap it around the gash.

His hands worked quickly and gently, trying not to inflict any more pain than necessary.

She was staring at his hand as he wrapped the cloth around her wound.

Amarisa seemed to be awakening from a deep sleep as she stared at his fingers brushing against her skin.

When the bandage was tied he looked up. Tears were starting to gather in her eyes; tears of joy.

Her soul had returned.

_And so the princess was awoken by a touch from her Prince._

She started to sob, face hidden behind her hands, and he pulled her to his chest where she wept her heart out.

Murtagh patted her back consolingly as she cried, seeing all of the death and the ruby red of the city below as the fighting continued, each side needing to win. Both wanted freedom but, in the end, would a new order be any better if this was how they were planning on getting it? If anything, they were worse than the current King, they would stop at nothing to overthrow him but the cost would be that of millions of innocent lives.

Was any new rule worth such a sacrifice? He didn't think so.

He looked back down at the woman that he loved. For he knew that now. What else could this feeling be?

Warmth had spread throughout his body just at her touch, lighting a flame deep within him.

She was still crying, her tears seeming to join in with the lamenting cries from the many people who had lost loved ones in this final struggle for power.

* * *

**A/N – You like? If so, review please!! Constructive criticism is welcome. The next chappy might be finished soon…I'm not sure. We'll see anyways. I'd love to know whether my character is Mary Sue-ish or not because then I can try and fix it…somehow.**

**Love ya,**

**PPB xxx**

**EDIT 4/3/10 - Okay, so I fixed this up a bit, hope you liked. :)**


	2. An Interesting Conversation

_**A/N – Okay, so its been AGES. I just never actually put this bit up. You can go back to the last chapter if you want, I've spruced it up a bit. **_

_**I was originally going to have this in with chapter one but then I realised that no one would see it then. Soo…I've put it in as chapter two.**_

_**Oh, and a HUGE thanks to all the reviewers! **__verbalalchemist, xXxSmidgexXx, artemisia81, ChronosXIV_. _**It's always nice to get some feedback. :)**_

_**Enjoy, and sorry for the long wait.**_

* * *

Murtagh shut the door to The Princess' bedroom and made his way towards his own, rubbing his eyes blearily. He was opening the heavy wooden door when a messenger ran over to him.

"The King would like you to question the prisoner." The man gasped, obviously out of breath.

Murtagh nodded, "Tell him I'm on my way now."

The man said he would and ran off to inform the King.

Murtagh sighed and shut the door; he wouldn't be getting much sleep that night he could guess.

He strode down the corridor and wound through all of the many different hallways he had to take to get back over to the dungeons.

Finally, he arrived there.

Two of the guards were asleep, snoring loudly with their heads on the table, when he came upon them and he asked one of the four awake if they would let him into Eragon's cell.

"'Course." The guard grinned, rather drunkenly, standing up and grabbing the keys.

Murtagh followed him to the end of the room and waited for him to open the door.

"Too many keys, it gets a bit confusing sometimes." The guard laughed nervously, fumbling with the ring as he tried nearly every key on the ring before he found the right one.

"Aha." He grinned, opening the door for Murtagh with a flourish. "Give us a shout when you want to get out."

Murtagh nodded and went inside. He saw Eragon still sitting in the corner of the room and wondered if he was asleep.

Just as he thought that, Eragon looked up and saw Murtagh standing there, lounging lazily against the wall, arms folded casually.

"What are you doing here?" He asked tiredly.

"Well…if you _really_ want to know…" Murtagh shrugged. "I was sent here to question you."

"Well that's just _great._"

"Shut up and listen, Eragon, I think I might know someone who would be able to help break you out of here." Murtagh told him, suddenly serious.

Eragon seemed suspicious. "And who would this person be?"

He saw Murtagh hesitate, "The King's daughter."

"Oh well, then that's just _perfect_. The King's daughter would just _love_ to free the person who's going to try and kill her father and stop her from being queen." Eragon obviously didn't like the plan.

"Well…she might. If we asked nicely and left out everything you just said."

"We?" The other rider looked incredulous.

"Of course, we'll have to work together on this one."

"Fine." Eragon agreed grudgingly.

"Good. It's a deal then?"

"Don't get your hopes up. How am I supposed to trust you? You just _captured_ me!" Eragon looked confused and outraged at the proposal.

Murtagh sighed heavily, smiling bleakly, "As hard as it might be to believe, I don't particularly _want_ you to lose to Galbatorix."

The brunette just looked bewildered, too tired to take in fully what Murtagh was saying.

All of a sudden the door to the cell opened and a resentful Amarisa was thrown in holding Eragon's food. The door slammed shut and they could hear the guards laughing.

She threw the food over to Eragon and crossed her arms, looking extremely annoyed.

"Err…thanks?" He offered, not knowing what to do.

He had never been the most adept at talking to women, especially the beautiful ones. They made him blush and stumble over his words.

She just glared at him and said nothing.

Eragon looked at Murtagh for help. Murtagh just shrugged in a how-am-I-supposed-to-know way, looking amused at the turn of events.

"So…this plan of yours," Eragon started, breaking off a piece of the stale bread and eating it. "How is it going to work? I mean, I seriously doubt that the Ki- "

Murtagh shushed him with a motion from his hand.

"What?" Eragon asked, annoyed.

Murtagh was trying to tell him something by using a whole lot a hand gestures, he pointed at Amarisa who had her back to them, looking at Eragon expectantly.

"This would be a whole lot easier if you'd let me read your mind." Eragon sighed.

"That's never gonna happen. C'mon, it's not that hard."

"What has sh-"

He was shushed again by Murtagh. Then it dawned on him, "_Oh._ I get it now. Okay. No more plan talking."

Murtagh smacked his face with his palm. "Finally!"

"Hey, it's not my fault that I'm not good at charades, it's not a skill I've really practised."

"Obviously." The derision in the older shur'tugal's voice as he chuckled softly made Eragon bristle in defence.

Eragon glared at his half brother, taking a swig from the flask of water.

"So," He began after a short pause, "What have you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, a little bit of this a little bit of that. Nothing much really." Murtagh replied, smiling and returning to his original lazy drawl.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fine then."

Murtagh looked behind Eragon and eyed the princess warily; she looked like she was going to hit something soon.

He grinned to himself, _I hope its Eragon, he wouldn't know _**what**_ to do._

"Where'd you leave Saphira anyway?" He asked Eragon conversationally.

"I don't know where she is. I blacked out." This seemed to trouble the younger rider.

"You'd know if she was dead." Murtagh offered helpfully, "And the Empire isn't trying to kill her."

"Still…" Eragon didn't look convinced.

"What?"

"I won't be getting out of here for a good while, I can't help worrying."

"You won't be getting out at all unless the King discovers your true name."

"Or if someone breaks me out."

Murtagh held up his hands in defence, "Don't look at me. I'm not putting my life in danger for you again. Plus, I've been told, specifically, not to break you out."

"What about just helping me break out?"

"It might work." Murtagh agreed dubiously.

"But?"

"There are too many guards and there's no way we'd have any help in here. We'd get caught in no time."

"Not if there was someone with authority to help."

"I don't think there's anyone with authority that _wants_ to help."

"Don't be so pessimistic."

"I'm not pessimistic, I'm being realistic. You're just an optimist."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

"In a realist's point of view? Yes."

"Oh shut up."

"I will as long as you do."

"You're so infuriating."

"I know, it's a talent."

"Oh just _shut up_! Both of you!" Amarisa spun around and yelled at them.

"I'm just stating my opini - "Murtagh started.

She glared at him. Her hand smacked his jaw squarely, leaving an angry red mark.

"Ouch, that hurt!" He held his jaw tenderly, wincing at the pain.

"Nice swing." Eragon grinned.

"Thanks." Amarisa smiled, a rare sight.

Murtagh was clutching his face, his eyebrows furrowed together in faux agony. He was obviously trying to play it up.

She sighed, "You _did_ ask for it, you know."

"I know." Murtagh mumbled, looking tragic.

"So, what's all this about breaking out? You're not stuck in here Murtagh, are you?" She asked, amused.

"No, I was told to question him." He returned, bristling, "_I_ wouldn't let myself get stuck in here with _him._ How stupid do you think I am? Actually, don't answer that."

"And what a great job of questioning you've been doing." She laughed, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Sarcasm is the worst form of wit, you know." Murtagh muttered.

"Maybe, but it's a good one."

He had nothing to say to that.

"You said you needed someone with authority to help you break out, correct?" She continued briskly.

"Yes," Eragon answered, "Why?"

"I may have lost some of my authority but it can be easily regained. Fear is an amazing motivator, don't you think?" There was a strange glint in her eyes as she said this; it wasn't hard to guess who she was thinking of.

"Are you trying to say…?"

"Yes, I am. I'll try to help you. There are no bonds that bind me to anyone's will other than my own. My father doesn't know my true name. He can't find it."

"When will we plan?"

"As soon as possible. Not now, I need to leave soon and the night will give us time to think."

"Don't forget to sleep." Murtagh chimed in, no longer holding his jaw. It was still red but didn't look as sore anymore, plus, he seemed to have realised that his act was going off as well as he'd planned.

"You think I'll be able to sleep in here?"

"You'll need your energy." Murtagh replied chirpily.

Amarisa stood up, brushing hay off of her expensive velvet dress. Lots of pieces of straw had attached themselves to the blood red cloth.

"I should go now."

Murtagh pushed himself up, grinning at Eragon, "I should too."

"Guard?" He called.

The sound of heavy footsteps and rattling keys echoed loudly throughout the room from the hallway. They could hear the guard muttering under his breath, not finding the right key.

Finally, with an 'aha', the door swung open.

Amarisa strode past him disdainfully and disappeared down the hall.

Murtagh winked at Eragon, "Have a nice night."

Then he left too, leaving Eragon alone with only his jumbled thoughts for company.

_I wish Saphira were here._ The young rider sighed.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut on him. The whistling of the guard becoming fainter as he strolled further down the hall.

Eragon turned and tried to make himself comfortable in the scattered hay.

Staring at the far wall, he began to drift off to sleep. It was late, much later than he'd thought and he was tired, oh so tired.

His eyes drooped shut.

Blissful unconsciousness awaited him as he fell into a deep slumber, too tired to hear the sounds of the catapults any longer.

* * *

Murtagh hurried to catch up with Amarisa. He didn't like the idea of her walking past those guards again by herself.

She was just ahead, striding forward with her head held high, hair like starlight falling softly onto her shoulders and down her back in silky curls.

The light was not beaten as the King thought; it was still just as glorious and utterly defiant of him as it had been before. Only now it wasn't afraid, it feared no one and was ready to let the whole world see its blinding, earth shattering radiance.

She was the light. The hope for a better future. Their best chance at a fair and just leader.

She had to be protected at all costs.

But Murtagh had to admire her beauty, she had a completely different air and presence now, it made her seem fascinating and alluring. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

He noticed that the guards were just as spellbound as he was.

_Better watch it here._ He thought warily, keeping his hand ready at the hilt of his sword. _This could get nasty._


	3. Preparing For a Jailbreak

**_A/N - Okay, so I actually wrote this pretty quickly, if i do say so myself, and I'm happy enough with it. Hope you enjoy and, please, leave a review so that I know what people are thinking about this. XD_**

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_Thanks again to all the great reviewers! n22 and xXxSmidgexXx you guys made my day! :D_

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* * *

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_Chapter Three:_

_Preparing for a Jailbreak._

* * *

As Amarisa made her way past the guards, her head held high, the men's eyes all followed her movements with obvious lust.

The cards and money on the table had been discarded, of less interest to them than of the beautiful young women passing by them.

These guards were the hopeless drunks, the ones not trusted to be sober enough for a battle. Their captains had left them behind to mind the prisoners because they'd be a hindrance to anyone in battle.

Murtagh frowned, struck by a sudden and fierce protectiveness.

The Princess may have got by for most of her life dealing with these situations by herself but, he could bet, she didn't look twice as stunning back then as she did at that moment.

Her wavy blonde hair was let tumble wildly over her shoulders in a disarray that managed to look messy and regal at the same time.

It was all in the air she possessed and the way she carried herself.

She looked like a woman on a mission, she had a focus and she radiated an aura of determined motivation.

The skirts of her fine, crimson coloured velvet dress swished across the floor while the drunkards stared greedily at her, no doubt filling their minds with disgusting fantasies involving the Princess.

"Looking for a good time, Milady?" One of them slurred, leering, so drunk that he looked as if he were about to fall off of his stool.

Murtagh's gaze hardened, fury barely held in check.

Amarisa merely laughed, "No, sir, I'm simply too tired for what you propose."

The Shur'tugal just stared at her, mouth open in shock.

The guard was laughing with her, not minding the gentle rejection, not looking put out at all.

"Maybe another time then, Princess." He grinned suggestively, losing his balance slightly as he leaned on the wobbly table.

She just smiled, "Perhaps. I wish you a good night, sir."

The man smiled delightedly, waving farewell to the young woman who curtseyed politely.

Murtagh, meanwhile, was in shock. He couldn't believe that she'd actually said that, his face burned with embarrassment for her.

It seemed too far beneath her, for her to have to deal with men like that.

Hurrying to catch up with Amarisa, he picked up his pace and followed the luminous glowing light of her blonde hair up the stone staircase.

She was walking faster than he'd thought she would be, considering her cool-headed and easy reply a moment ago.

Taking the steps two at a time, he ran as fast as he could.

At the top, the Princess slowed down slightly, appearing to be deciding which way to go.

"Princess!" Murtagh gasped, clutching his side, finally catching up.

She turned to face him, looking slightly irritated, "Yes?"

"I'm not," He panted, "Going to let you walk around the castle unprotected."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm well able to take care of myself, as you saw."

His cheeks flushed slightly at the memory but he argued, "I still don't think it wise."

"Very well, you can escort me to my chambers, Shur'tugal." She sighed, walking again and taking the right turn.

Murtagh nodded hurriedly, walking beside her, "What do you plan to do about him?"

Amarisa looked thoughtful, knowing that he referred to Eragon, "I believe that I can help him, I don't wish for Alagaesia to be ruled forever by the same monarch."

"Do you have an idea?" He asked, curious.

She smiled bitterly, "Indeed I do. I've been planning such a thing for years myself."

"You have? Why didn't you use it?" He was surprised but he had a feeling that he knew why she hadn't done anything with her plans.

She had been sucked into a severe depression for the past year; many people had believed her dead. The King, however, couldn't care less either way, she was a disappointment. She wasn't a dragon rider; she was but a Sorceress, albeit a very powerful one at that.

"You've probably guessed why. This past year, I've been in no fit state to do anything other than drown in my own despair." She smiled wryly, as if she was vaguely amused at how she'd acted.

"It was reasonable, considering what happened." Murtagh said, almost afraid to mention the incident in case the memory of it threw her back over the brink to insanity.

"Yes, yes it was." She mused softly, eyes sober and thoughtful, "However, we have things to attend to that require my full attention and sanity."

He didn't know what to say and was relieved to see that they were outside the solid oak door to her bedchambers.

The rider moved to leave, muttering a farewell, when she caught his wrist, motioning him inside with an unreadable expression in her smoky grey eyes.

Intrigued, he followed her in where, as soon as he was completely past the threshold, she closed the door with a snap and locked it securely.

When she was finished with the lock, she looked back at him.

They were inches apart, noses almost touching. Murtagh could hear both of their breathing as they simply stared deep into each other's eyes.

It was like someone had lit up the air with a fuse, there was an electric charge between them, drawing them closer. Their chests touched and they could feel each other's chest move up and down as their pulses quickened.

Her head tilted upwards to face his.

He moved to close the gap between them as if in a daze, heart beating wildly.

Her eyes started to close, his lips barely brushed hers.

Then she moved back abruptly, looking flustered with her eyes bright.

She wrung her hands on her skirt and then, seeming to decide on something, turned away from him and made her way towards her desk at the back of the room.

Murtagh cleared his throat, trying not to dwell on what had just nearly happened. There was business to attend to.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to calm his racing heart. What _had_ that been?

He knew that he was attracted to her but he'd never felt anything like that towards Amarisa before. That was an entirely new experience for him.

His thoughts were whirling, he was so confused but he knew he had to stop and concentrate on what was happening at that moment.

She was off-limits, the King's daughter and practically a widow. No, he'd have to keep his distance, for his own sake, never mind hers.

He opened his eyes again to find her staring down at a load of papers spread across the white painted wood, studiously ignoring him.

Well, if she was going to ignore what had happened, he sure as hell wasn't going to bring it up.

Sighing softly to himself, Murtagh made his way across the room to where she stood, her eyes furrowed in concentration.

He looked down at what she was staring so intently at, it was very detailed map of the whole castle, it included laundry shoots and, very interestingly, some secret entrances.

_Aha. So that's what we're going to be using. _His interest was piqued, how did Amarisa plan on getting Eragon over to one of these entrances?

He didn't bother asking yet, the princess didn't look like she'd appreciate an interruption just yet.

After scrutinising the map for another ten minutes, with Murtagh bored out of his mind at that point, she finally looked up at him.

"Well?" He asked, impatient to know why she'd been staring at the map for so long.

She looked unimpressed and her eyes narrowed slightly, "I've decided that we should take Eragon through _there_." She touched a spot on the map, "And then lead him to here, where he can escape." She ran her finger along a discreet, unused corridor that led to a secret entrance that could be used to leave the castle.

"But first," She looked at another part of the map, tapping her finger on it restlessly, "We need to get something from _here_. And it won't be easy."

Murtagh saw the label of the room beside her finger, _Forbidden_. He knew what room that was. It was just down the hall from the throne room and happened to be one of the most heavily guarded places in all of Alagaesia.

He groaned, "Why is it never easy with that kid?"

She looked amused, her eyes sparkling merrily, "Well, it's never a dull day with him, at least." Her expression turned serious, "Besides, he's our last hope."

"I don't count?" He joked, faking a hurt expression.

She grinned, "No, you don't." Then, when he clutched his heart in faux horror, she laughed, "Hey, I'm just telling you the truth."

He smiled charmingly, dark eyes dancing, "I suppose you just don't care about me."

"Don't be silly, I've known you most of my life. I'd have to have _some_ kind of feelings about you or my heart would have to be made out of stone." She punched him playfully in the arm, "Now c'mon, we've got to work on this."

He sighed deeply and went back to discussing this infamous 'plan' of hers.

"Now," She started, "We'll need to go here…"

After about three hours had passed, they'd finally come to an agreement. The escape was planned to perfection, now all they needed was the materials.

Firstly, Murtagh had to disguise himself somehow as a guard but Amarisa told him that she could have that sorted out easily.

Secondly, they had to have Eragon's weapons before they broke him out, although that was decided as a simple task.

Thirdly was the task of stealing from the King. In that heavily guarded room was the one thing that could tip the scales in this war. They had already decided on how to go about getting inside and getting out undetected.

It was decided that it should go smoothly but, as with every plan, there was always a chance of something going amiss, though they hoped desperately that nothing would.

The battle outside was starting to die down, there weren't as many crashes from catapult or screaming from injured men. Dawn was creeping up on them as they spoke.

Looking outside onto the battlefield, Murtagh wished that he could've been out there to help in some way.

But he couldn't, he had been out earlier with Thorn but Galbatorix had forced him to stay confined in the castle after he'd brought Eragon in. He felt like a coward.

Both sides, he knew, would be retreating now, counting their losses and re-evaluating their strategy. The Varden, no doubt, would be frantic with worry when they discovered how Eragon had been captured while the Empire, however, would be patting itself on the back, congratulating itself on its victory so far. The soldiers would be celebrating with each other inside.

Rubbing his eyes blearily, Murtagh yawned widely, like a lazy cat.

Amarisa glanced over at him, smiling, "You should go and sleep. I forgot that you'd been out in the battle, I have kept you awake for far too long, Shur'tugal."

He grinned at her, looking incredibly tired and rundown, his clothes were creased and dirty and his hair was a mess of black after he'd fallen asleep on the desk earlier.

"That's not such a bad idea." He mumbled, standing up and stretching, "I'll see you later then, Milady."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Still managing to remain the gentlemen, I see." She pushed him lightly towards the door, "Go, you need your rest."

"Be safe," He yawned, fumbling with the lock.

She laughed, "I always am."

Opening the door for him, she couldn't help but laugh at him as he looked worriedly at her.

_Overprotective fool. _She thought fondly.

"_Go._ I'll be fine." She assured him, giving him another little push down the hallway.

Looking like he really didn't want to leave her there, he left begrudgingly, feet dragging.

The Princess smiled to herself, he really was adorable when he was like that.

Then, remembering what she had to do, she hurried inside, grabbing a basket and an apron so that she could easily pass for a maid.

Checking her reflection in the small hand mirror, the only one she had left since her little…_episode, _she decided that her dress was plain enough and no one would recognise her. Although, even if someone did, they wouldn't bother asking her questions when everyone still thought she was mad.

Practicing her wide-eyed, vacant expression, she made sure to look the same as before.

_It's a good thing I was always an excellent actress. _She smirked at herself through the mirror.

She put the small hand-mirror down and tied the apron around her slender waist, picking up the basket.

Perfect. She had always liked playing dress up, so finally one of her talents would come in handy.

Humming quietly to herself, she left the room, though not before concealing a dagger up her sleeve. One could never be _too_ careful.

She had a job to do, after all. And it was a dangerous one at that.


	4. Danger is a Girl's Best Friend

**A/N - So, I've finished this chapter (although I hate some parts, but I'd probably spend the next 6 months wondering how to fix them otherwise) So, although some bits make me cringe, I hope you enjoy it. ****Oh, and just as a little warning, there's a not-so-graphic scene in this chapter (I think I glossed over it fairly well without ruining the story...heh)**

**Thanks to the last reviewer, Artemis the Emerald Princess I was glad to have at least one reviewer. They _do_ make me write that bit faster, lol. ;)**

******So...read and and enjoy, I hope. :) **

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_**Chapter Four**_

_Danger is a Girl's Best Friend_

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Eragon was jolted from his sleep by the rattling of keys as the door to his tiny cell opened.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, looking bemused and still half asleep, a man dressed all in black entered the room appearing completely at ease.

His eyes were the colour of the sky at midnight, his handsome face looked cruel and bitter with the dark expression he wore and numerous rings weighed down on his slender fingers.

But, what caught Eragon's eye was the blade at the man's side. It hung on his belt in a polished black sheath, the hilt adorned with silver symbols and a glowing sphere-shaped diamond. The blade itself, he knew, would be the sheer colour of shadows and darkness, truly black.

The young dragon rider knew whom he was faced with now, and, armed with that knowledge, he stood up warily.

Galbatorix was staring at the boy with grim amusement in his eyes; it set them alight and dancing with malice.

"Ah, so we meet again, young Shur'tugal." The King smiled, leering.

Eragon gulped but managed to hold on to some courage, "Yes, we do. What do you want?"

Galbatorix looked displeased, "Did the elves not teach you any manners, _boy_? I am here to extend an invitation and, let me assure you, I do not often do this personally so consider my offer wisely."

"Very well," Eragon began cautiously; afraid of provoking the mad king again, "What is it that you propose?"

Galbatorix grinned widely, like a lion before it catches its prey, "I am inviting you to serve the Empire, and myself, as a Shur'tugal to keep the peace in Alagaesia."

Eragon's gaze hardened, "You mean that I'll have to betray the Varden, whom I've sworn my allegiance to."

"Hah, those petty vows are easily undone." He waved his hand dismissively, "Now, what do you say, Eragon?"

Eragon's eyes narrowed, sure that the use of his name was supposed to warm him towards the proposition, "I'm afraid I will have to think on the matter."

The King's voice was persuasive now, without the cruel edge from before, "Surely you want to see the Dragon Riders restored, rule Alagaesia justly and fairly as you keep the peace. There would be no need for war; all would bow to you and Saphira. It would be a glorious time, would it not? Can you not see it?"

True, Eragon could see vividly the picture Galbatorix had painted, it intoxicated him and, for the first time, he actually wanted to willingly swear allegiance to the Empire just so that the dream could become a reality.

Now he knew what Murtagh had meant when he said that the king was a brilliant manipulator.

Eragon shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

Unfortunately, Galbatorix took this as a refusal, "What?! Do you not want to be a noble leader?! Speak when you answer or I will force this upon you!"

Startled, Eragon looked at the King with horror; the raven haired man was glaring openly at the younger dragon rider, not hiding his rage.

"I-I need to think on this, Sire. Forgive me." He bowed his head, afraid to look the madman in the eyes.

_Wait, 'Sire'?! Where had that come from? I've sworn nothing to him! _Eragon was more than a little uneasy.

Galbatorix continued to glare sullenly at the boy until, after what had seemed like an eternity, he spoke, "Very well, Shur'tugal. But beware; my wrath will be vast if you refuse. Again, consider wisely."

Eragon only nodded, unable to find his voice.

The King understood this and rose, leaving the cell without a backward glance.

Eragon sighed gustily, now he was in huge trouble. He hoped that Murtagh and the Princess had a plan that could get him out of there soon.

Hopefully, that would be before Galbatorix decided to incinerate him.

Otherwise…well, to tell the truth, he really didn't want to dwell on that prospect.

Swallowing painfully against the lump in his throat, he waited.

Perhaps they would arrive to save him that day.

One could always hope.

xXx

Looking around her warily, Amarisa skulked down the hallway, careful not to appear inconspicuous.

The corridor was empty, most of the soldiers were either asleep already or down drinking gallons of ale.

Acting like any maid who had an ounce of self-preservation would, she carried the empty basket in front of her, eyes looking down at the ground. It wouldn't do well to have an attitude there; she knew only too well what happened to you if someone singled you out.

Touching the place in her sleeve where she'd hidden the dagger reassuringly, she took a deep breath, moving further down the hallway.

The princess wrinkled her nose distastefully, the sounds that were coming from some of the rooms! It was disgusting how they broadcasted their private lives to everyone.

She supposed that that was what happened when you hired all of the men in the Empire to serve in your army, there was always going to be some particularly bad apples dumped into the basket along with everyone else, especially when some of those apples were ex-convicts.

Avoiding the noisier rooms, she hurriedly made her way towards the launderettes. She knew that she'd be safer there than out in those hallways.

As Amarisa reached the door, a deafening bang sounded from behind her. It was the sound of someone throwing open their door in a drunken rage.

She froze, willing them not to see her.

Silence.

She didn't dare breathe or move a muscle, perhaps he hadn't seen her. She just hoped it wasn't who she thought it was.

Her whole body was frozen in the fear of being seen.

Listening desperately, she waited.

As the seconds trickled by, she almost thought that she'd gotten away with it.

Then, footsteps.

They were lazy and confident, the footsteps of a hunter that knows he's won.

Her heart thundered in her chest as the terror of the moment overwhelmed her.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, she turned to face the soldier.

And gasped in horror.

She knew him; he was infamous with all of the women in the castle as a monster, as she knew only too well.

They had met before, though in quite different circumstances, and she knew that this time there would be no one to come to her rescue.

He was incredibly handsome; she considered it a sin to grace a man as repulsive as him with such good looks. His eyes, a light brown colour, were filled with a feral lust and frightening cruelty. His hair was the colour of honey and was cropped short against his head.

She didn't need to look to know that he was incredibly muscular and strong, there would be no escape from that grip.

Trying to hide the fear she knew was filling her eyes, she waited for him to say something, not daring to even glance at where her dagger was hidden in case he noticed.

He smiled warmly; although it looked more like a leer, "Well, well, well. What could a beautiful young woman such as yourself be doing wandering these halls all alone?"

She swallowed thickly, her voice remaining strong and cold, "Merely doing my duty, sir."

"I'm sure." He stepped closer to her, almost suffocating her in his presence, as he smirked, "Perhaps you'd like to collect some clothes that need washing, as your 'duty' of course."

Amarisa knew that it was a trap but it was such a great chance. She needed a soldier's clothes and here one was, offering some to her. Although, she wished it wasn't _him_ that was inviting her inside his chambers.

But, she considered, she should be safe enough with a weapon concealed up her sleeve. Right?

Sighing softly, unable to resist the opportunity, she replied, "Very well, I'll collect them."

He grinned, triumphant, "Good, I'll lead you to the room."

Grabbing her arm in a vice-like grip, he brought her to the only open door in the hallway. It was eerie; no one would come to her aid if she got in trouble.

This was an every-man-for-himself place, possibly the worst part of the castle she could be in.

But then again, she considered, odds like that had never stopped her before.

Inside, she stepped towards the pile of clothes on the ground, throwing them unceremoniously into her basket with a loud thump.

She turned, ready to leave, and found the soldier blocking her way.

He was standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a cruel smile gracing his lips.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, knocking the basket out of her hands.

Amarisa let out a little gasp of surprise, and spat, "Out of this room."

He just laughed at her, not finding her a threat at all, "That's not going to happen, princess. You're staying here until I'm finished with you."

Realising what he meant, she tried to push past him but he simply laughed again, kicking the door closed.

He grabbed both of her arms, pushing his face up into hers, grinning. "You won't get away that easily."

She kicked out with her leg, catching him in the shin. He didn't even wince.

The same leering expression was on his face as the last time she'd come face to face with him.

Panicked, she tried to pull away but he was too strong.

Laughing still, he grabbed the back of her head and pushed his lips greedily against hers.

She struggled harder against him but to no avail.

His hands roamed her body hungrily, touching her in places that she never wanted anyone to.

He was like a starving animal that had just found a piece of meat to consume; his movements were frantic and harsh.

Then as he stopped devouring her face for a second, she struck.

Amarisa, her hands free, pulled out a dagger from underneath her sleeve.

Holding the blade against his neck, she grinned maliciously at the soldier.

He was shocked, eyes wide and body rigid as he took in the silver knife held to his jugular.

"Well, well, well, what should I do with you now, I wonder?" She asked pleasantly, pressing the blade in harder against the skin of his throat, "I've never been the most forgiving, I'm sorry to say."

His mouth opened but nothing came out. She laughed unkindly, the sound foreign to her own ears.

She had the upper hand now, and boy was she going to enjoy it.

xXx

Meanwhile, Nasuada sat in her tent facing Arya and Roran worriedly.

Her face was scratched and her clothes torn, but she didn't care about that. What she wanted to know was why the raven-haired elf looked so hopeless.

"What happened?" The Varden leader asked Arya, in no mood for beating around the bush.

"I'm afraid that Eragon did not return from his duel with Murtagh." She replied expressionlessly.

Nasuada simply stared, uncomprehending, at her ally, "What? But that means…"

"Yes, if he falls to Galbatorix, the Varden will be defeated. The Empire will be victorious and all chance of reform and freedom will be gone." The elf finished for the dark skinned woman.

Nasuada put a hand to her head, "Oh dear Gods, what can we do?"

Roran cleared his throat loudly.

"Yes?" She asked, looking at the dragon rider's cousin.

"Perhaps, if he is indeed captured, we could find a way to free him." He looked at Arya for a moment, "Surely we have spies inside the Dark Castle?"

The elf seemed to come back to her normal self at this, "Of course," she muttered, "We have spies inside the castle, yes. They did not fight for they are disguised as drunkards and are, quite conveniently, guarding the prisoners in the dungeons."

Nasuada looked as if she was thinking of a plan, "Yes, we can order the men to free Eragon before he is due to meet with the King and smuggle him out through a chute or some other passage. It _could_ just work."

Arya was smiling, animated, "Yes, it will, I'm sure of it. I'll make the arrangements." She turned to Roran and beamed, "You truly are a genius, Stronghammer. You may have just saved all of Alagaesia."

He smiled, "How do you plan on contacting them?"

She tapped the side of her head, "I have my ways."

And, with that, Arya left the room. That left just Roran and Nasuada alone.

"Do you think it will succeed?" He asked her.

"It had better, for all our sakes." She told him seriously, rising to look out on her army.

This was it, the final hurdle, and they were falling short already. She had known that Murtagh was beyond help but she still had thought that he might spare his half-brother.

Now, she knew, the Murtagh she had known and empathised with was gone. He was simply Galbatorix's pawn, a pawn that would have to be taken care of before the end.

Sighing heavily, she focused herself on happier thoughts.

Perhaps they could save their dragon rider, otherwise this war had all been a waste of time and lives.

They needed to win.

Outside, the sky turned a ruby red as the sun rose up above the ruined city of Uru'baen.


End file.
